


Late Night

by Uglyglitter



Category: Karneval (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 07:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uglyglitter/pseuds/Uglyglitter
Summary: Yogi gets a late night call from his captain.   Aka pwp phone sex.





	Late Night

"Mm-Hello?" Yogi was groggy when he answered his phone. He hadn't even looked at the front to see who was calling. Yogi had grabbed his phone and curled back under the dark warmth of his covers.

"... My, did I wake you?" Hirato's smooth baritone over the phone was a sobering sound. Yogi was suddenly more awake, still hiding under the covers long after the weight of sleep had left him. He paused, looking confused in the dark of his covers. Why was Hirato calling him so late?

"Yes. mmm-why are you calling me so late?" Yogi mumbled, yawning as the last vestiges of tiredness left him. And then a thought occurred to him. "Ah! Is it an emergency?" His panicked voice rang out into the receiver, and on the other end Hirato winced.

"No." Hirato said resolutely, and Yogi relaxed with a sigh. And then his face scrunched up in confusion. He opened his mouth to ask again when -- "I won't be making it tomorrow."

"Oh..." Yogi's heart sank at that. They'd planned to -- the blond flushed, shaking his head to clear the thought. If it was important business, it couldn't be helped... he couldn't expect Hirato to drop everything to come running to his bed -- like he would even if Yogi wanted it in the first place. This wasn't the first time Hirato had done this to him. It wasn't the first time Hirato had slept with someone other than Yogi or blown off an arrangement. Yogi didn't think he had any right to really be upset. They weren't in a relationship. That wasn't even what he wanted . Yogi had just always hoped -- been attached to -- But he was never sure how Hirato felt about anything. And he was more terrified of the answer than of actually asking.

Hirato however knew exactly how Yogi felt. He knew and he enjoyed toying with the blond's feelings -- fully aware of the way his actions impacted the other man. There was a sick satisfaction that accompanied the silence that he could hear on the other end. He could just imagine Yogi's face -- that pained, longing expression. Hirato knew it wasn't just the physical aspect that the blond enjoyed -- it was the emotional connection. Or in the case with Hirato, the illusion of an emotional connection. Oh? Hirato noticed the familiar warmth that had started to grow in his lower stomach. He pressed a hand down his stomach, palm warm and soft against himself.

"Oh? It seems I may have a solution." Hirato spoke lowly, in a deep voice laced with promises that sent a shudder down Yogi's spine. The purple haired man pretended not to notice the way Yogi's breath hitched. Yogi knew that tone. It was a tone that he oftentimes liked to pretend was reserved for him. He knew he was only fooling himself, but he pressed those thoughts back, letting the sound -- the implications -- wash over him.

"Don't tell me you're hard already, Yogi." Hirato spoke smoothly and confidently over the phone. Ironically, his hand was already stroking his own hardness, with a slow and even motion. Yogi's face burned, and a muffled groan escaped him. How pathetic. He was half hard already, and just from hearing the other man's voice over the phone. He could picture Hirato on the other end -- fully dressed and composed and -- "Touch yourself." It left no room for argument.

Yogi complied, snaking his free hand down and beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The blond hissed over the phone. Somehow, it was easy to imagine it was Hirato stroking him. Even though his motions were shaky and frantic where Hirato's were controlled and knowing. Again, Yogi was good at pretending.

"A-ah. Hirato..." Yogi mumbled, his phone falling between his ear and his pillow as he continued. He tried to remember how Hirato did it; palm pressed coolly against the the side, fingers curling around the hot flesh between his legs. Shakily, he ran his thumb over his tip -- "Ah. Aah--" Yogi breathed loudly, little sounds tumbling out of his mouth with abandon. On the other end, Hirato's breathing was barely baited as he grasped himself more firmly, moving quicker and quicker.

"H-Hirato... please." Yogi gasped, barely able to resist burying his face in the pillow on instinct. He felt like Hirato was watching him -- watching him touch himself like this and stroke in earnest only to the sound of Hirato's voice. But that was the distinct problem -- Hirato was practically silent. "P-please say something... t-talk Ah... Hirato." Yogi pleaded shamelessly, practically whining as he quickened his motions. His other hand, no longer needed to hold the phone since it was now cradled between his ear and his pillow, sunk down past where his hand was moving ever quicker over his hardness. Yogi spread his legs slightly, curling up so his other hand could reach to cup his balls, kneading them like Hirato had done last time they were together.

"I know, Yogi. You want to hear my voice as you come, don't you?" Even Hirato couldn't hide all of the tremor from his deep and husky voice. But it came out smoothly and lowly enough, that it shook Yogi all the way down his spine.

That was all the blond could take.

"Ah! Ah..." Yogi cried out, his entire body jerking, toes curling as he came. His moan was loud and Hirato had to increase the distance between his phone and his ear. Which was fine, because in the next moment he was pressing it against his chest as he came with a small groan. He breathed heavily through his nose a few times before he could catch his breath and calm down enough to speak calmly.

Yogi was overcome, breathing heavily and slumping sweatily in his bed. He removed his sticky hand from his drawers, wiping his hand off on his sheets and deciding to deal with it tomorrow. He rolled over, grabbing his phone with the hand that seemed less dirty. Yogi barely pressed it against his ear before --

"Well, then. Good night, Yogi." Hirato said in his pleasant business tone, although truthfully he did sound like he was in a slightly better mood than before.

Yogi's phone clicked, signaling the end of the call. The only light in the room -- under the sheets -- was extinguished. And with a soft sigh, Yogi attempted to fall back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an old kink meme around 2010. Originally posted on livejournal.


End file.
